not quite a poem; the mistakes you make part i
(when she’s just a friend---and an irritating one---but damn is she pretty) i meet her when i am six, and she is seven our friendship is a tumultuous one, one which often struggles --- ( she will have her way, no matter who she must step on to get it, and she can’t seem to remember whether she plans to never speak to me again, or not ) --- but frustration and impatience have never clouded my vision; she is beautiful, her face has always been one i’ve loved to look at it’s a fact, plain and simple i am not attracted to her i never have been, i never will be but the way i regard her appearance has always strayed just beyond what ‘friends’ --- ( or enemies or best friends or enemies or ) --- normally experience but of course, girls do not look at other girls as something that lies just beyond friendly
(when she’s bossy and not your type but your gaydar’s on point) she is not beautiful in the way i appreciate her dark hair flows down her back; her figure is nothing short of stunning --- ( i have always been jealous of the way our ugly uniforms frame and flatter her shape where they detract definition from everyone else ) --- and it takes nothing more than a shock of red lipstick to turn her into a supermodel but she is harsh where i prefer soft her face wide where i prefer spritely she is not attractive to me she never has been, she never will be but i know if i ever, ever want to learn what kissing a girl felt like --- ( not that i have ever wondered, of course not, of course i wouldn’t, but if i did, it would only be natural to be curious, wouldn’t it? ) --- she will be the one to let me and i think about it often, more often than i should, so often i wonder if i should feel wrong --- ( years later, my best friend tells me; i had known right, even then; this irritable, rude, domineering friend who i am glad to have lost contact with is now identifying as bi, and it seems i’d felt it even before she had ) --- but of course, i am not a girl who would kiss another girl
(when she genuinely grosses you out with her unsanitary habits but if she had a less gross doppelganger you’d be all over that) she, like my other two closest friends, is one i long to be rid of she may be meek where they are overbearing, but she has always been a little odd a little self important a little hard to be around but she is beautiful; she is tall, with a thin, lean figure, with a strong, elegant face i am not attracted to her i never have been, i never will be if only because i know the regrettable person she is a little too well but if someone completely different from her shared her appearance grew her hair out passed my way... --- ( i think about kissing that tolerable Someone Different in dark corners and spaces passionately and often, where no one can see ) --- but of course, i am not a girl who wants to kiss other girls
(when you’re an idiot and you hate to admit your mom is right) she is a wild ride personified a little crazy, a lot of funny, the kindest and most open soul i’ve ever met she’s younger, but only enough to surprise me and she’s endearingly sweet and loves to weave stories with me she’s perfect, to be honest --- ( i don’t like you writing romantic stuff with girls, my mom says in her most perturbed tone, if you do, i think tumblr will turn you gay. and i am enraged, because you can’t turn someone gay, writing with another girl about a man and woman falling in love will not turn me gay. i am not, strictly speaking, wrong about this. ) --- i do not think i like her romantically that i ever have, ever will but i am wrong, because i think about her always think about what it would be like if she flew across the country to see me if she climbed into my lap grabbed the front of my shirt pulled me closer leaned down and kissed me it consumes my thoughts more often than it doesn’t when she sends selfies, i find myself going back to simply look at them, countless times i begin planning to go to college where she lives, so that i can be near her and i tell myself all the while that she is just a friend because of course, i know now that girls like other girls, but i also know i am not one of them
(when you’re an even worse idiot, and the truth is miserably failing to catch your attention) she tells me once that she doesn’t like her face and it’s the worst thing i’ve ever heard i insist otherwise, not because it’s the polite thing to do but because she’s breathtaking and i selfishly need her to understand she says her face is too short---but her face is lovely, perfect it’s soft, her features are petite, and everything fits like it was designed to rest there perfectly her blue eyes are round and beautiful her nose is small and adorable her lips are naturally a perfect shade of pink and her hair always falls just right --- ( put simply, i love to look at her ) --- just one year, she holds a sleepover for her birthday party we sit in a circle around a word game we play with her and one of her younger sisters and she sits across from me when the game ends, she leans forward on her hands and knees to pick up the pieces and i can see right down her shirt i try not to look, but i can’t help what i’ve seen already i can’t help that i was glad to see it i can’t help that i keep thinking about it or that i think about what it would be like to stop time later in the night after everyone else has fallen asleep so that no one could bother us if i kissed her, if she kissed me it’s all i can think about for the rest of the night i do not think i’m in love with her or that i ever have been, ever will be but i am wrong, plain and simple later, i take her with me, on a family vacation and i don’t understand the importance of it, she and i sharing a bed for ten nights in a row i don’t appreciate it the way i should, having her to myself for so long but i love it nonetheless, love her nonetheless, and it shows; i have never snorted when i laugh but she does it embarrasses her, but it’s endearing, it only makes me smile and after a few hours in the car with her and her laugh for the first time, i discover a snort when i laugh as well and it stays with me for months, the sound of her laughter finding a home in mine i love her, i do and i think i will go to my grave, still half in love with the girl whose face is the best one i can imagine looking at whose laugh is contagious whose kindness will stay with me forever but of course, while i know girls love other girls, i also know i am not one of them
(when it pisses you off that someone you hate shouldn’t have been right) she has always been exceptionally pretty, though i’ve never noticed but she arrives, with her hair cut short in a way its never been and styled with a care i’ve never seen and with heels like she’s never worn and with her makeup done so well a professional’s hand could have done the job i don’t even recognize her at first surely i would remember if i had known someone so beautiful, after all she looks so much older, so much more free --- ( maybe i fall just a little bit in love with her on sight. ) --- i can’t help but say how good she looks, more than once because i’m not blind because it’s truly entrancing because the change is bold enough that any of our friend group would easily admit that there’s something about her right now that catches the eye lesbian, responds another girl, the one who has always hated me as though the word speaks volumes on its own as though she doesn’t even need to form a sentence around it i regard her with disgust and don’t dignify her with a response because there’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian, though i’m quite sure i’m not one and because one doesn’t have to be a lesbian to see that our friend is drop-dead gorgeous --- ( i am once again not, strictly speaking, wrong about that. ) --- i do not think i am attracted to her that i ever have been attracted to a friend, or ever will be but after the unwelcome commentary, i find the thought chasing me for the rest of the night of what it would be like to kiss her but of course, girls might be attracted to other girls, but i am simply not one of those girls